Gut Feeling
by KevinxoShelley
Summary: Can Wordy find Sam in time?


Gut Feeling

Hey everyone. As usual, I don't own Flashpoint, and check out my profile for story ideas.

Okay, so I did have another idea for this story, so don't read this part until you've read the rest: (START) Sam finds a boy in one of the rooms, and knows they both won't fit in the refrigerator. So he puts the boy in the refrigerator, and the bomb goes off. Wordy finds the back of Sam's vest in the rubble, and hears the boy calling out for help (END). I couldn't really figure out how to write that - and I thought there would be a lot of upset readers if I killed off Sam. So don't worry, everyone in this story is alive. Also, no one, absolutely no one, shut themselves in a refrigerator. It's dangerous and should not be done. Thanks for reading and enjoy.

FP_FP_FP_FP_FP

''Everybody out, now!'' Spike shouted as he jumped up from where he was squating and ran out the door. He went down the hall and cleared the other two rooms before heading out the way came.

''Talk to me Spike, what's going on?'' Greg asked, trepidation in his voice.

''Bomb. Easily diffusible, but there's not enough time. Everyone pull back now.'' Spike huffed as skipped the last few stairs of the exit, and ran back to the command truck. ''Scarlatti, clear.''

''Jules and I are clear,'' Ed said, as he and Jules came into the line of sight of their Sergeant and bomb tech.

''I'm out, boss,'' Wordy called making his way to the front of the building.

''I'm clear, too,'' Lew said, flinging open the door and letting it slam behind him.

''I've got one more hallway, then I'll make my way out.'' Sam rounded the corner and started opening doors.

''Sam, listen to me. There's, no, time. Get out now!'' Spike commanded.

''Almost done,'' Sam's eyes looking wildly around the room.

''Sam, you get out now, that's an order.'' Greg held his earpiece close to his ear and turned back to the building.

''One more.'' Sam kicked in the door and did a quick sweep.

''Spike,'' Greg turned back to his tech expert, ''get on the cameras, see if you can get a view on how much time is left.''

''Copy,'' he said as he ran over to the truck. He had just placed his hand on the handle, when a resounding boom echoed over the area. Shocked silence was all that was heard after the explosion.

The firefighter crew ran forward to extinguish the flames. Team 1 just stood where they were, numbly watching what was going on. It was sometime later, when the chief walked over and put his hand on Greg's shoulder. ''I'm sorry Sergeant. My men didn't find anyone. If your guy was inside...'' the chief let his sentence trail off as he saw the information sink in to the grief-stricken team.

''He's still alive.'' Wordy looked determinedly at the building. ''He's still alive.''

''Wordy -'' Greg started.

''I can feel it, Boss. He's still in there. I can't explain it.'' Wordy looked to his boss pleadingly. ''Just let me walk the perimeter. I know he's okay.''

Greg looked at the face of his teammate, then at the fire chief. ''Is it alright with you if he does a perimeter check?''

''Of course. I'll have one of my guys shadow him.'' The chief turned and beckoned over one of his guys to follow Wordy.

Wordy slowly walked up to the building. Everything happened so fast; it seemed like only moments before that they had just entered the building, and now he was skirting the edges of charred debris and ash. He continued on at a easy pace, looking desprately across the remains of the building. He walked past one side, then the next. At the third side, he took a deep breath and pushed the doubt out of his mind. Mentally bringing up a picture of Sam's face, he forced himself to swallow, and to not think - just feel. Even after raising three girls, he still couldn't explain it. That gut feeling to grab the first aid kit when one of his daughters called out for him. Waking up suddenly for no reason, only to check on his girls and find one of them in a nightmare. He just knew. Stopping to face the last side, he heaved another breath and dried his eyes with the back of his glove. Halfway down the side, he felt a pull in his gut. Stopping and looking around, he started to continue on, when that same feeling pulled him back. He turned to his shadow and asked, ''Is it safe to step in this area?'' After recieveing a nod, he lifted up the yellow tape and crossed under. His gut pulled him to the left, and he cautiously stepped through. It almost felt as if his stomach had all but dropped when he got the feeling to stop. Looking about his feet, he shifted over a few pieces of what used to be part of a ceiling. Uncovering an old refrigerator, he turned back to the fireman. ''Help me move this.'' The feeling was becoming overwhelming as he and the man pushed against the refrigerator. After it was moved, he went back to moving burnt pieces of wood, when a voice in his head spoke just one word: _Inside_. Wordy looked at the refrigerator again and reached for the handle. It took some pulling, being at the odd angle it was, but he got it open, and looked in. There, curled in a motionless ball, was Sam. ''Get him out. Get him out, help me get him out.'' Wordy went to the other side of the refrigerator and worked his hands in until they were under Sam's shoulders. He and the fireman pulled and gently eased Sam out, and back under the yellow tape.

Medics, having seen Sam being pulled out rushed over with a gurney. ''He's not breathing. Give us some room. Back up,'' they gently pushed the fireman and Wordy away and got to work.

The rest of Team had moved closer to the scene, but was still being held back by the fire chief.

Wordy's focus shifted between Sam, his team, and the medics. _Please, please_, he prayed, looking back at Sam. He saw Sam's brow crease and heard him blow out a cough. He was choking on his coughs and gasps for air, but he was alive._ Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you._ He pushed his way up to Sam's side, and tried to get his attention. ''Sam, Sam can you hear me?''

Sam closed his eyes against the harsh light and quickly decided it was a good idea not to move his head. ''Dad,'' he coughed again, ''Dad, where - what...''

''It's okay, son, it's okay. Just keep coughing - it'll help. We're going to get you to the hospital, alright. You're going to be fine.'' Wordy looked up to see the team heading to the trucks. _They'll meet us there,_ he thought, as he climbed into the back of the ambulance. The ride to the hospital was filled with coughs and some medical jargon, but Wordy just stayed quite, keeping his hand on Sam's boot. When they got there, Sam was wheeled in through big double doors, as Wordy was told to stay in the waiting room. The team arrived shortly after, and they all sat down in the plastic chairs to await the news from the doctor.

''What was he thinking?'' Ed asked, pacing. ''He should've gotten out the second he was order.''

''He's a soldier first, Eddie,'' Greg said, trying to figure out Sam's thinking. ''There were rooms that hadn't been cleared.''

''Even if he found someone Greg, what was he going to do with them? He wouldn't have had time to get them out. I'm just thankful that the last room he checked was a kitchen.'' Ed exhaled loudly and sat down in a chair.

''How did he even think to get in the refrigerator in the first place?'' Lew asked.

''Indiana Jones,'' Spike said to himself, then looked up at everyone else. ''We watched the lastest movie a couple of weeks ago.''

''I don't care where he learned it, I'm just glad he's safe.'' Wordy stood and went to look out the windows.

''Family of Samuel Braddock?'' A man in a white coat came through the double doors at he end of the hall.

''Is he alright?'' Wordy rushed up.

''Yes, he'll be fine. He has a really bad concussion at the moment. A few broken ribs. He refused pain medication; I'm hoping you'll be able to convince him otherwise. If he would just take a small dose to help him rest and be comfortable -''

''We'll try. Thanks doc,'' Wordy interrupted, eager to see that was really was okay.

The doctor nodded, knowingly. ''Through the doors, take a left, and the third door on your right,'' he instructed.

The team followed his directions, gaining a few looks from other patients, and came to Sam's door. Remembering the concussion, Wordy tapped softly on the door before opening it. His brows furrowed as he stepped throught the door and saw Sam trying to get out of the bed. ''What do you think you're doing?'' he whispered.

Sam cringed. ''Not so loud,'' he said, quietly. Trying a new position, he started to roll to his left before a wave of pain hit him, and he was forced to lie back down. ''I wanna go home,'' he huffed.

''Not until you're clear,'' Greg said kindly.

''Come on Samtastic,'' Spike piped up from beside his boss. ''You got a room with a view,'' he said motioning to the window, ''why be in such a hurry to leave?''

''I don't like hospitals,'' he said simply.

''We'll find out when you can leave when the nurse comes to give you your pain medication.'' Wordy saw Sam was about to protest, so he leveled him with a look.

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, daring himself to refute, but decided against it. He let out a sigh as he tried to get more comfortable. ''Fine.''

A slight knock on the door caused the team to turn around. A nurse came and pulled out a vial and syringe from her shirt pocket. ''Okay, Mr. Braddock, this is just something for the pain.''

''Can I go home?'' he pleaded.

''I'm not the one who gets to decide that,'' she said smiling, as she injected the needle into the IV. ''Just so that you're aware: It's not safe to enclose yourself in a refrigerator. You wouldn't believe the numbers on how many kids hide in there and can't get out. Your lucky someone checked inside; since the explosion didn't kill you, that most definitely would have.''

''If there's a next time, I'll take that into consideration. Can I go home now?''

The nurse put the vial and syringe back in her pocket. ''I'll go ask the doctor,'' she said turning around.

Ed, being closet to the door, thought he heard her mutter 'big baby' under her breath as she left. Looking back at Sam, he said, ''I think she likes you.''

''How about while we're waiting for the doctor's verdict, you lay back and get some sleep,'' Wordy suggested, adjusting Sam's pillows.

''I'm not tired,'' he slurred, the pain medication already taking effect.

''We'll be right here, buddy,'' Wordy said from the chair beside the bed, watching Sam's eyes close and his breathing even out. ''Right here.''


End file.
